Rewind: Wars and Memories

by Dirck Halstead

This war story, as you read it, will probably
make you say "no way...this is too strange."

All I can tell you is, this story is true.

In the last week of June, 1954, I graduated
from Bedford Hills HighSchool
in New York state.

In the preceding two years, I used photography
as a way to create anidentity for
myself. I wound up being editor of the High Schoolyearbook,
and also created a job for myself with the a local newspaper chain--they
needed photos--I worked cheap.

There was a strange rush in the last month
of my high school experience.I
had covered Rita Hayworth leaving a court building in White Plains,after she had filed suit against her husband
Ally Khan. I shot it with a4x5
Speed Graphic, and the New York Daily Mirror used the picture on thefront page.

A week later. I took a train to Washington,
and covered theArmy-McCarthy
hearings, in which Sen. Joe McCarthy held the collectivelives
of a lot of good decent people in extreme jeopardy.

These photographs, along with a photo of
Joseph Welsh, the ArmyCounsel, who
said "At long last Senator (McCarthy), have you no sense ofdecency?"
were used on the front page of the Patent Trader, thenewspaper
I worked for.

It also inspired me to write an editorial
for the Bedford Hills HighSchool Newspaper.
It called into question McCarthy's tactics.

There was a furor surrounding the publication
of my editorial. When Igraduated,
there was no mention that I had ever been the editor of theschool
paper.

So, here I am, graduating, driving my
'41 Chevy down the hill from thehigh school, and wondering what I am going
to do next.

I was listening to WNEW's "Make Believe
Ballroom" when a news bulletinbroke
in: photographer, Robert Capa, has been killed in Vietnam.

Robert Capa dead? Robert Capa was my hero.

Why?

Well, first off, he was the epitome of
a warphotographer... handsome... brave...
had an affair with Ingrid Bergman...

What was really fascinating about him,
though, was that he had CREATEDHIMSELF.Robert Capa was really a struggling photographer
named Andre Friedman.While covering
the Spanish Civil War, he invented the American warphotographer,
Robert Capa, in order to sell his photographs. A photographof
a Spanish Loyalist militaman being struck by a bullet at the moment ofhis death became an instant classic.

The newly created Capa quickly became a
legend in the new field ofphotojournalism.

When I was growing up, I wanted to be
a cowboy. Somewhere in my teens, Idecided
that being a photojournalist was better.

As I listened to the WNEW broadcast, I
heard that Capa was beingbrought home
for burial in a cemetery in Amawalk, New York, within my"coverage"
territory.

On the day of the ceremony, I arrived at
the Quaker Cemetery early. Iwandered
inside, looking for the site. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to me, abunch
of photographers from the New York dailies had shown up at thefront
gate of the cemetery, waiting for the body to arrive.

A few minutes before the burial was supposed
to take place, John Morris,who was
then the head of Magnum Photos, came up and asked me toleave.

At this point, a rough, wooden casket,
almost like a shipping box wasushered
into the cemetery. On it was stenciled the words ROBERT CAPA,PHOTOGRAPHE,
MORT EN INDOCHINE, 24 JUIN, 1954.

To this day, I don't know why, but I began
to cry.

John Morris suddenly looked stricken, and
he asked me to wait.

A moment later, he came back to me, and
said,"you know, you are aphotographer,
he would have wanted you here."

So, I photographed the burial, and that
week I wrote a story for thePatent
Trader about what Robert Capa meant to me.

A week later, I called John Morris in his
Chappaqua home, and delivereda set
of prints to him.

As I was leaving he said, "What are you
doing this summer?"

Well, I had no really important plans.
I was supposed to enterHaverford College
in the fall.

Morris said "we have a story that's
been suggested to us at Magnum, butwe
don't know what to with it."

A group at Cornell University suggested
to Magnum that they cover anexpedition
by their students to build a school in Guatemala.

On my way to Morris' house I heard a news
bulletin on the radio that awar was
impending in Guatemala.

The CIA had sponsored a coup attempt under
a leader, Carlos CastilloArmas, to
overthrow the Communist government led by Jacobo Armenz.

Every war correspondent and photographer
was on their way to Guatemala.

I seized the opportunity.

The next day, I showed up at LIFE, asking
for an appointment with the Director of Photography, Wilson Hicks. It turned
out that he was onvacation, soI got a meeting with his acting director,
John Bryson, who was agreat photographer
in his own right.

All I had was that week's newspaper, which
had my picture of theArmy-McCarthy
hearings (not a little deal, for a small town paper), andthe
Rita Hayworth pictures.

For some reason, John Bryson (bless his
soul) took me seriously, and ledme
in to see LIFE's Education Editor, David Drieman.

They reviewed my suggestion, and asked
me if film and $1,000 would beenough
to get me started.

Are you kidding?!

Film, and $1,000 in 1954 (extrapolate that
one), to a kid who had beengetting
$10.00 per picture!

The most important thing that I asked for,
in retrospect, was a notefrom Drieman
on a plain old TIME Inc. memo pad saying, "To whom it mayconcern,
Dirck Halstead is on assignment for LIFE magazine, and whateveryou can do to help him would be greatly appreciated."

BONDING WITH CAPA

The group going to Guatemala that I was
joining was made up ofPresbyterian
students from Cornell University. They were led by anaffable
and energetic man named Lee Klear. The idea was that thesetwenty
some undergraduates were going to travel on two open trucks fromIthica, New York through the Southwest, across
into Mexico, down throughMexico City
to the border of Guatemala. Then onto what were in thosedays
almost jungle roads to the capitol of Guatemala City. The drivewould take about ten days.

The day before my father was going to drive
me from our home in MountKisco, New
York, up to Ithaca, I made a beeline for the nearestArmy-Navy
store. Using some of my new wealth that I had obtained fromLIFE,
I bought military fatigues, an army cap, a knapsack, a web beltwith canteens and a fanny pack, combat boots...everything
I couldimagine a well-equipped warphotographer would need. With some additional
help in the form of agoing away present
from my parents, I also picked up a couple of brandnew
Leica IIIfs with a wide angle and a 90mm lens. My trusty 4x5 SpeedGraphic would sit this one out.

The Sunday we left for Cornell, dawned
with leaden skies. As we wereabout
to turn onto the interstate heading North, I asked my father tomake a detour.

We drove to the Quaker Cemetery in Amawalk
where a week earlier, Capahad been
buried. There was no one among the graves as I walked to Capa'stombstone. The wind started to kick up, and
a clap of thunder echoedthrough the
graveyard as rain started to pour down. I just stood there,over
his grave, as the rain drops ran down my face, just concentratingon the grave.

For a moment, I could feel the great photographer's
presence, andallowed his spirit to
mingle with mine. By the time I turned to go backto
the car, I was convinced that I had taken on part of Robert Capa'sspirit, and that I was going to be covering
my first war.

THE MEMO COMES IN HANDY

About the time our open-topped trucks got
to Cleveland, I started tospread out
my equipment and military gear on the mattresses that werestrewn
throughout the truck bed. The other students, clad in T-shirtsand
shorts were aghast.

"What do you think you're going to do with
that stuff? Go to WAR?""We're supposed
to be building a schoolhouse for pete's sake!"

Obviously, these kids just hadn't heard
about what was going on inGuatemala.
When I explained that we were heading into an active warzone,
one of them said, "Oh, that! That was all over yesterday!"

Sure enough, the previous day, as the CIA-led
guerrillas approachedGuatemala City,
the Communist leader Arbenz had been made an offer hecouldn't
refuse, and had fled the capitol. Castillo Armas' men hadentered
the city without a shot being fired...the war was over...all warcorrespondents were going home.

But for some bizarre reason, it didn't
phase me in the least. I wouldcontinue
to shuck my Kodachrome canisters into my belt pack, justsmiling
and saying, "When we get there, there will be a war!"

Five days later we arrived in Dallas. I
wanted to make sure my newcameras
were operating properly, or more accurately, that I knew how tooperate them. I found the local newspaper,
the Dallas Times Herald, andwalked
in with a couple of rolls of black and white to see if they couldprocess them for me.

I was met by a compact and feisty man named
Charlie McCarty. He was theSouthwest
Division Newspictures Manager for United Press, and he hadjust
taken over the management of the Times Herald Picture Department.He was looking for new photographers. As I
took the film out of my brandnew Leicas,
I talked about my mission and showed him some of mytearsheets
from the previous week's Patent Trader. Included were the Capa funeral,
my coverage of the McCarthy hearings, and Rita Hayworthleaving
the courthouse.

He offered me a job on the spot, but I
wasn't the least bitinterested. After
all, I had a war to cover!

That began a relationship with Charlie
McCarty that would lead to myreturning
to Dallas a few years later to work for him. It would alsolead
to a life-time mentoring relationship.

Convinced that my cameras were in fine
shape, I stood at the rail of theflatbed,
as our trucks headed south across the border into Mexico.

Arriving in Mexico City, we were supposed
to be granted our visas toenter Guatemala.
Here's where the expedition ran into big trouble.

It turned out that the Guatemalan counsel
in Mexico was the formerArbenz appointee.
He had not the slightest interest in doing anythingfor
the new government, let alone issue visas for twenty school kidsfrom the United States.

Our leader, Lee Klear, was beside himself.
Fuming, he paced around thetrucks
all night. Suddenly, I had an idea...that little piece of bluepaper
that I had been given by LIFE saying, "...on assignment for LIFEmagazine, and whatever you can do to help
him would be greatlyappreciated."

The next morning I presented myself at
the Mexico City bureau of TimeInc.,
looking for the LIFE bureau chief. He was on vacation, but hisassistant
took one look at the interoffice memo I handed her and said,"Let
me see what I can do."

This lady sat down at an old clunky teletype
and knocked out a messageto New York.
All it said was, "LIFE photographer Dirck Halstead is beingdenied
access by the Guatemalan Communist officials here in Mexico Cityfor his group of Presbyterian students that
are trying to enterGuatemala to build
a school house. Please advise. "

As the machine in New York spit out the
message, one of the peoplelooking
at it was none other than Henry Luce, the founder and editor inchief of TIME Inc. Harry, as he was called,
often checked incomingmessages to
see what his people were up to around the globe. For Luce,reading
the copy, several words jumped out at him...LIFE PHOTOGRAPHER(his
guy!), DENIED ACCESS (unthinkable!), COMMUNISTS (God, he hatesthem!),and PRESBYTERIANS (he was one of the fold!)

Shortly thereafter a seismic event took
place at the State Department inWashington.
Suddenly, the number one priority of the new Guatemalangovernment
was to get a new counsel to Mexico City and issue some visasto
a group from Cornell.

As the trucks lumbered across the border,
Lee Klear was still shakinghis head.

THE 7:35 TO WAR:

At sunset, the trucks pulled into the rear
of a Presbyterian missionhome in Guatemala
City. The streets were peaceful. Birds were singing inthe
clear night air.

While my friends were enjoying the buffet
that had been laid out forthem, I
was busy checking my gear. This was too much for my comrades! They began
to taunt me mercilessly..."So, where is this war? Dirck can'tfind
his war!! Yahde dah dah!" I just went on loading my cameras.

At
dawn the next morning, I woke up, put on my fatigues, strapped on mypack, and headed out the door. I reached the
corner just as a tankloaded with troops
whipped around it (almost like a city bus). It pausedfor
a second, I reached up, someone grabbedmy
arm, and 17 year old LIFE combat photographer Dirck Halstead was offto war.

So, you're probably asking, what on earth
happened? Thought the war wasover?

Well, it turns out that when Castillo Armas
swept into Guatemala Citytwo weeks
earlier, his CIA-backed ragtag army consisted largely ofpeasants
from the countryside. The officers of the regular army who wereleft in place, despised Armas and his country
hicks. Bad blood festeredfor two weeks.
While Armas was away from the city for the weekend, agroup
of his liberation soldiers expelled some L'Ecole Militare cadetsfrom a bordello in the city. This was just
too much for the regulars,and led
them to stage a surprise attack on the liberators' headquartersat the Roosevelt Hospital north of the city.

My tank deposited me right at the fighting.
Bullets whizzed around me,as I ran
across the fields with the attacking troops. My adrenaline waspumping,
and I felt absolutely immortal.

By noon, the war was over and my pack was
bulging with exposed film. Imade my
way to a Western Union office where I called the Guatemala Citystringer, Harvey Rosenhouse, a man whose name
I had been given in NewYork.

I calmly said, "Harvey, this is Dirck Halstead
from LIFE in New York. Ihave pictures
of the war."

There was a silence at the end of the line,
and then Rosenhouse said,"You have
pictures? I've been calling people all morning, nobody daresgo
out...where are you?"

A few minutes later, Rosenhouse showed
up at the Western Union office. Ithought
his eyes would bulge out of his head when he saw this kid indirty
fatigues, with a couple of Leicas hanging around my neck.

Without saying a word, he grabbed me, pushed
me back through the WesternUnion office
and into a restroom. "Give me your film now, and stay here.Don't
leave this room till I come back."

I had no clue that outside the Western
Union office the citizenry wasgoing
nuts. They had enough of fighting, and were in mobs, looking foranyone wearing a uniform.

A couple of hours later, Rosenhouse showed
up with a change of clothes.He had
shipped my film on a Pan Am flight to New York. For the next 48hours we worked together as a reporter-photographer
team coveringCastillo Armas' consolidation
of power.

A few days later, with my first double
page spread in LIFE magazine secured, Iwas
on a plane back to New York. Building a school house never reallyinterested me anyway.

I made enough money from a grateful LIFE
magazine to buy a brand newFord Ranch
Wagon to take off to college.

A week later, LIFE ran a story about its
youngest war photographer onthe contents
page. A photo of me was next to Alfred Eisenstadt, and the captionread: "Bless em all...the young, short and
tall."